Pas de Deux
by PagesofAngels
Summary: Meg Giry has a heated encounter with the Opera Ghost after sneaking away from rehearsal. ALW-based. (Written as a gift for QueenoftheMorgue on Tumblr) *One-Shot*


The blackened soles of her shoes gave silky whispers across the floor. The backstage labyrinth of sets and curtains seemed a world away from the brightly lit stage, where the laughter of practicing ballerinas echoed through the aisles. No, Meg had been called away from that side of theatre's reality. That evening, she would be dwelling in the low-light, soundless realm of the Opera Ghost. It was a…special treat for her to do so.

She came to the doors of the prop room. The usually padlocked handles were parted, allowing a small entrance into the deeper darkness beyond. Inside the room was soundless. Had she not known better, she would have thought herself utterly alone. But she did know better.

"It's me," she whispered.

The door eased shut behind her, closing out what little light there was. A coy smile pulled at poesy lips. Complete darkness.

A hand caressed her shoulder, slipping off a strap of her leotard. Meg decided to be a tease and pulled the strap back into place.

"You'll have to earn it this time," she said over her shoulder.

"Do I?" asked the Voice.

Meg felt a body press against her back. Hands rubbed her shoulders, trailing down to rest on her hips. A pair of lips met the nape of her neck, exploring every inch of her skin they could find. A palm migrated from her hip to her thigh, teasing its way under her skirt. Nimble fingers burrowed under the fabric of her leotard, and quickly found their way between her feminine folds.

A sharp gasp left her lips as the Opera Ghost reached the most forbidden part of a woman's anatomy – the part that also was the most pleasurable. She rocked her hips as he massaged her clitoris. Her own fingers trailed down to pull the fabric aside, allowing him more room to work his supernatural wonders. All the while his mouth bit hungrily at her neck and shoulders.

Finally, Meg slid off her straps and pulled her pure white ballet attire to her waist. A second hand began to toy with her small breasts before its attached arm took her by the waist and pulled her backwards. Meg felt her way to a wall and pressed her backside against the cool brick. Within seconds she felt the almost icy breath of the Opera Ghost on her face. She heard him panting.

Meg knew what he had told her the other times they had met like this in the dark: she was not to touch him, he was only to touch her. So, she patiently waited as she heard him fumbling with – what she assumed to be – his belt buckle.

The sound of fabric fluttering to the ground, and he was against her again. This time his lips were against hers, after a bit of fondling to find them on his part. There was always something a bit odd about his lips – something that Meg could never quite place. But it didn't matter, not in her heated, brief encounters with the supernatural.

She felt the throbbing heat of his erection against her bare leg, and it increased her own arousal. Meg swiftly dropped her skirt and leotard to her ankles, giving the ghost permission to do what he wanted.

Two hands gripped her wrists and pinned them high over her head, such was his usual technique. The Voice let out a soft and unsteady moan as he entered her and began eagerly thrusting. Meg struggled to keep her outbursts to a minimum, lest she risk getting caught fornicating in public. What would her mother think? Well, that was simply why this was her dirty secret.

It never lasted long. In fact, there were several times Meg left his realm without feeling satisfied. Today would be one of those days, too, it seemed. After several hard movements within her, Meg was just starting to reach her pulsating peak, when he finished.

There was a heavy sigh next to her ear, and the hand holding her wrists let go. Desperate, Meg broke her only set rule and reached for him – finding his shoulders mere inches from hers.

"Please," she whimpered, "keep going." She had never dared to ask him this before.

There was silence. Then, with an annoyed grunt, the movement began again. It was not as eager, not as lustful, but it was enough. With the rule of touching already broken, Meg decided to try and help things along. If the ghost didn't want to be here longer than usual, she wouldn't keep him. She felt for his hips and took them, suddenly realizing how bony they felt. Braced against him, she used her dancer's body to move with him, applying pressure where he could not.

A pas de deux, a dance for two.

Meg's grip tightened on him as she finally climaxed, and that was when the ghost parted from her. Catching their breath, the partners redressed themselves as best they could. Meg smoothed her skirts to make sure they were straight before returning to rehearsal.

"It pleases me to satisfy you," the Voice said.

Meg was stunned. He had never spoken to her so directly, so…personally. "Thank you," she mewled. "I feel the same."

There was a small movement of air around her, and she knew he had vanished. Meg felt her way back to the door and, as quietly as she could manage, opened it and slipped back into the brighter side of reality.


End file.
